


Empurata

by Isone



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Don't Examine This Too Closely, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, My First Work in This Fandom, This Is STUPID, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-28 01:11:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20417402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isone/pseuds/Isone
Summary: The punchline for this garbage is that It all of this started with a dare in a late discord call.So of course i got carried away and now im posting this in case someone wants to be sad or read depressing stuff with me.I would classify this more like some kind of essay, or why i have always thought of exos as the most pitiful races to be inside the Destiny Universe.Not gonna lie, i made myself Sort of sad writing this._______For Boynok,  may you find your fire again.





	1. If humanity is a weakness, i am filled with holes

*

*

*

Carefully, almost with love, the lone guardian picks at the stray pieces of machinery poking out of his hands, feeling a sensation not unlike when you'd try to pry away skin strips around your nails. Watching the unyielding metal screech at times, bend unexpectedly under the sudden pressure where the material gathered only to form the finer details of his matter. After a particular vicious groan from his constant picking, the Titan finally let his heavy eyelids shut close.

<s>Red</s> fireflies danced behind his closed eyelids, quick and sudden warnings on his HUD like angry insects; the grating shrieks drowning every other sound around him like the tone of an angry mother only meant for him. Even if it would have been easy for him to dismiss the angry flashing with just a flick of his mind, he simply chose not to, instead focusing in the dull throbbing of his hand that kept on escalating just as his picking did as well.

Internally he thought about calling his ghost, <s>Tit</s>, and direct him to some random planet and find patrols just to pass the time and fill the hours, falling into the mechanical motions and actions that he was so very well familiar with at this point. Drop. Aim. Shoot. Reload. Charge. Duck. Rinse and repeat over and over, until one of them would rise victorious over all of them. Though he doubted that his <s>death</s> would be as permanent as his enemies desired.

War was ruthless, but worse were the silent moments inbetween. The apparent peace. Not permanent. Ever fleeting. It lulled a false sense of normalcy into much inexperienced guardians, ever so enticing. And Boynok-1 knew firsthand how dangerous false <s>hope</s> was nowadays, specially for guardians.

\-------------- ※ --------------

It was sometimes reassuring how everything tended to stay the same in the Tower. The <s>Last</s> City. The Haven for the last traces of <s>Humanity.</s> In this times, people had little to cling to, and those were precious and rare things still. So he chose to cling to that feeling. Chose to fight under the ambiguous, adorned phrases filled with <s>hope</s> and promises of better times; by the faceless figure that stood always by the Traveller, the source of a dangerous weapon that turned deadly wielded by the wrong hands. He was now one of the children of the <s>Light</s>. And he still recalled the confusion, the slight fear, and the unlimited pride when he was reckoned by the side of his proud brothers and sisters. For the was now one of the walls, the pillars, the last warriors, filled with honor, duty . <s>A reason for living again.</s>

He had taken an oath. The same oath that bound him to the scorching flames, to the thundering cracks of lighting that pushed him to the limits, to the hollow void that threatened to swallow him whole into the unknown.

An oath of hundreds. No. Millions before that now lived and acted through him. Because he was <s>Light</s>. He was vengeance. He was the shield, the hammer, the righteous fury and lighting that struck true not once, but twice in the same place and time quick like sound and heavy like the war itself.

In retrospect, like Shaxx had once told him some time ago, the name was befitting for someone like him. He was a Titan, bound to the earth, and proud as the sky has no end.

\-------------- ※ --------------

When the nagging of the flashing warnings, and the throb finally escalated into a constant and stinging pain Boynok decided it was time to stop his nitpicking at his already abused fingers and hands, deciding on ceasing being just idle and forcing his machinery to move for the first time in the evening.

Again, he passed through the motions seamlessly. Mechanically. Not really seeing and not really registering what his hands were doing at the moment until he ran out of belts to fasten or pieces of cool metal to wrap around him.

When he stared at the broken excuse of a mirror than hung besides his cot on the wall of his ship, only cold <s>red</s>, unflinching, and unfeeling lights stared back at him, as if mocking him.

\-------------- ※ --------------

The news travelled fast. In a community used to bad news, and impending doom hovering over their heads everyday, good news felt like a refreshing gust of air, like opening the window of a room full of stale and old air. The heart of the Black Garden was no more. A little victory, a new <s>hope</s>.

It could be seen in the way Zavala's eyes, normally obscured by strategies, numbers, losses and dark thoughts lightened up when he talked. By the way Ikora's knowing smile stretched a little bit more than usual. By the way Cayde's terrible jokes and humor lacked the self-depreciating tint that characterized his jabs. By the way Shaxx's thunderous, boisterous laughter and joy carried over the Tower a little bit higher, a little bit brighter. 

And in the midst of all due congratulations, hugs, approving looks by his older brothers and sisters, and the excitable but stoic pats on his shoulder with the "You honor us" and the "I wanna see that back in the Crucible" that accompanied each pat. It was there that Boynok dared to believe himself powerful, dared to believe himself undefeated and <s>whole</s>.

After that, everything became a blur. Not the days, meaningless in an existence where time and <s>death</s> didn't matter. But he remembered pieces.

He enjoyed conflict. Not in the strict sense of the word, but the sheer thrill that accompanied every battle and every duel, where pride, skill and luck were put at the line every time. Where one could forget the dark enemy looming just behind the horizon. How far could he go before he reached his limit?. Who would be the next opponent that would test the Titan's skills and might?. It was during those times that he threw himself, metaphorically and literally, head first into the game known as the Crucible. It was there where Boynok met him.

<s>Hunters</s> . Little scoundrels. All taken under Cayde's wing and care. All more or less just as annoying, sometimes even more than the Vanguard leader of that faction. And this one, Boynok decided, was one of the few one selected with the honor of assuming a place higher than the <s>hunter's</s> leader in his own scale of "i will charge at them" scale. Just a little bit below Zavala with his eternal stick stuck up his own ass.

That was the reason why all the headshots he managed on that annoying guardian felt sweeter than usual, or why all his hammers found their mark on him if the evasive <s>hunter</s> dared to even try and look around the corner. He had been called to a challenge, and would be damned if he wouldn't walk out of it with his head held high, another exciting tale ready for Shaxx and those who were willing to listen. And he was met with the same arrogance, if not laced with more aggressivity. 

Shaxx would always remember that match, cackling whenever he felt in the mood to tell the tale in a way that always made even the more stoic of guardians crinkle their eyes and snort slightly.

\-------------- ※ --------------

<s>Red</s>. He always wondered why <s>red</s> of all colors. <s>Had they always been </s><s>red?</s>. He didn't have a particular fondness of the color, neither did he despise it. Boynok didn't entretain that thought for much longer.

Instead the took a quick glance at his arrangement. Shimmering, metallic, sleek black plating and wide shoulders greeted him, its continuity being only broken by the scattered lines of <s>red</s>, and only brown of the fur accents. Another constant. Another thing that made him, <s>Him</s>. It was sometimes reassuring, he thought. And behind <s>red</s>, black and gold did the Titan hide his own gaze, like other countless times he had done as his mind could travel as far as it could.

\-------------- ※ --------------

<s>Cross-10</s>. That was the name that greeted him when presented with the same <s>hunter</s> that had once challenged him in the same familiar landscapes he knew by heart. A sincere hand and a light tone, which held no malice but the promises and mischievous character that acted as a presentation card for the group of his class as a whole. It was only when the caped figure, growing impatient with his lack of reaction made a particular jab at him that he did take his hand on his, with an amused huff and a roll of his eyes under his helmet. The only sound that broke the exchange aside from their voices was the impatient shifting from toe to toe of the only <s>Warlock</s> currently among them, waiting for the ghost to finish up breaking through the millions of files that compromised the Vex collective in that one terminal. Boynok only found much later that <s>Cross-10</s> had willingly offered himself to partake on that mission, dragging his clanmate along for the ride. 

And suddenly. They were <s>two.</s>

They were <s>two</s> when they took on the world. They were <s>two</s> when the Vault of glass was breached beyond repair. With the constant jabs at the other class, the impromptu escapades, the boasting, the kinship. The mocking glares, the playful undertones. They complemented each other in a way that some guardians wished and envied, just beyond soulmates or brothers. They were <s>two</s> when the Crucible went through a phase where terror was palpable in the air, even more if someone spotted so much as <s>two</s> lone guardians donned in black, gold and <s>red.</s>

Until one day, they were <s>two</s> no more.

\-------------- ※ --------------

With a heavy sigh as heavy as his thoughts, the Titan marched with deliberately long and slow strides towards the only door of the room, calculated, posing and solemn, consequence of decades of fighting, of living by the word.

The strides of a wounded animal, with no choice but to <s>move on</s>.

\-------------- ※ --------------

<s>The Great Disaster.</s> That was what the Vanguard agreed to call the desperate assault to take back the moon. And indeed, it felt more than just a disaster to him.

Boynok was fairly used to the feeling of uncertainty, to the slight anxiety before a big event. To the clamour and deafening sounds of the battlefield around him that lulled each guardian into a familiar song, like a long lost lover asking for a dangerous dance.

But the Vanguard had also fallen into that dangerous trap, <s>hope</s> it was, thinking themselves invincible, and beyond any type and kind of retribution. They had been playing a dangerous game. They had thought themselves smarter than the rules of the game; overlooked the obvious signs. They had willingly made the bet, ignoring the stern and slightly desperate warnings that had echoed the room, the usual energetic and booming voice reduced to a concerned, disappointed whisper.

And now, it wasn't the Vanguard that had to pay that price.

They fell by hundreds, as their <s>Light</s> sizzled, died, one by one, until there was nothing left behind. They had forgot the feeling of fearing for their lives, the terror of knowing that they wouldn't come back. Not this time around. That wasn't a battle. It was a <s>massacre</s>.

And part of the price that the <s>Last</s> City had to pay for their cockiness, for believing themselves to be <s>gods</s>, was that realization. <s>What was an ant to a </s><s>God?.</s>

But no amount of that familiar feelings prepared him for the sight of watching one of the things he felt brave enough to cling to meeting his end. Not any amount of training, pride or years lessened the blow that was to watch the life drain from that <s>dearly</s> annoying <s>H</s><s>unter</s>, until purple dimmed to leave nothing behind.

-"I guess I didn't roll out of the way in time"- he had told the Titan with a pained chuckle -"Dammit. How embarrassing. I wanted at least to be remembered for being the one who put Zavala out of commission"-.

The hive knight laid a few feet aside, a crackling knife still embedded on his forehead.

<s>"We are destined to great things, you and I"</s>

\-------------- ※ --------------

The vessel descended slowly to the earth level, as if scared to disturb the tranquil and unperturbed freshly fallen snow, like a stark white blanket that covered the earth as far as the eye could reach, receding in some patches where wild grass and dirt could be seen through. 

<s>"We hunters come from the dirt, the wild side</s>

<s>it is only natural we return to that when we feel the pull"</s>

It took 7 more minutes until the Titan descended the now sleeping ship, mainly due to the fact that he didn't fully remember the <s>codes</s> for unlocking his own hab door; <s>did he even lock it beforehand?;</s> and needing the help of (<s>Ti-)</s> his own ghost to end the predicament.

Boynok-1 blamed the cold, that fogged even the senses of the most experienced <s>hunters.</s>

\-------------- ※ --------------

The fire consumed him. It wasn't even a normal fire. It felt like hot wildfire running through his own circuits, threatening to burn him from the inside to the outside. Like a poison, slow and excruciating that numbed your insides; imposing and insisting, like a child demanding attention. That swallowed everything on it's wake. Except the hatred.

The pure, unadulterated hatred that now had filled the hole that <s>he</s> had left behind.

And it was eating him alive. And he didn't care.

So he chose. He chose to ignore it. To embrace it and welcome it like a lover did. It was then when it started.

Because once you open the door to the devil, you don't have the option to close it anymore. 

※

※

<s>How many?. How many had fallen and crumbled to dust?. Had he even been counting at all?.</s>

They weren't enough. No matter how many. 

<s>It didn't matter. That wouldn't bring him back. Nothing would.</s>

Yes. He remembered. He had to meet with <s>him</s> this evening at the spicy ramen shop, mainly because <s>he</s> owed Boynok-1 a bowl or two. And tomorrow they had an important battle, to retake the moon. They had bet on who would be the one with more takedowns. And he refused to be the one who had to wear the watermelon shader.

<s>Wait, something's not right. The moon?</s>

If he only could remember the name of the guy who was talking to him. Or his own ghost, for that matter. Boynok was pretty sure he named him something. Odin? Baldr?

<s>What was the warlock's name again? Was he sure he didn't just name his own ghost, "ghost"?</s>

But even so. He had a duty. He was the pillar, the last line of defense for Humanity. Everyone counted on him. <s>He</s> counted on him.

<s>He didn't like that look on Cayde. It meant he knew something, and he hated how he didn't even remember who he was supposed to report to.</s>

Wait. Was he waiting for someone? Why was he just standing here?

<s>Who was it? What was his name?</s>

Why did he feel so much anguish inside?

※

※

\-------------- ※ --------------

The unnamed grave at the Titan's feet greeted him with a silent welcome.

<s>He</s> had told him stories. Of how when given a second chance, rust and white was all that filled <s>his</s> vision. It was only logical, even poetic, to return <s>him</s> to where <s>he</s> started. Boynok-1 had always thought that this place, now deserted, wild and ethereal fitted his shadow like a glove. Because that was how Boynok-1 remembered <s> him</s> now. A shadow. A pale comparison to the real thing. Less than tomorrow. More than yesterday.

<s>His</s> cape, arranged around the cold and harsh stone, still flew with the wind like it used to. Like it could command the breeze to its will.

\-------------- ※ --------------

His humanity had caught up to the Titan.

For he was wishing for the end of pain. His own pain. An end to how it isolated him. And it was the most human wish of all.

For he was a child of iron, light and fire. And he was oh so fragile.

For he was another shadow. Limits he had no control.

For he had a heart made of metal. And his memories had an expiration date.

Children of metal and gold. For their skin was so tough, but couldn't keep everything dear to them inside.

For they, silver and vibrant and _oh, so alive_ but yet cold to the touch.

For their own memories could drown each one of them, if not discarded and forgotten. <s>Even if they wished it so.</s>

_Oh, my forged child. Do not cry. For you are fragile, and your soul has a limit on how much it can hold. For your time is precious, and you are cursed to live yet to not to remember. _

Let us start anew like the freshly fallen snow.

\-------------- ※ --------------

<s> **"[...] I know now that i have to let you go"** </s>

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	2. It requires more courage to suffer,  than to die

Three guardians. That was the amount of guardians that were needed to take care of a problem that had caused more misery and bloodshed that the entire Darkness itself. It was poetic, really, how it always fell down to three nowadays. Three Vanguard leaders, three guardian classes. Three ways to kill an enemy in a flashy-totally-cool-and-over-the-top way. He had three ramen bowls this afternoon.

Huh. Mind-blown.

Well, Cayde-6 had a lot of time on his hands lately with him being under involuntary house arrest in the Tower, and apparently creating his own cosmic philosophy was now off his to-do-list now.

Maybe now that Crota was dead, he could try and create his own cosmic sect based around that. And ramen.

Only the spicy one.

In the middle of that circling thoughts, accompanied sometimes by a tilt of the Hunter's Vanguard head, and some dramatic pose with a sudden stop of his workings on the map currently sprayed across the large table did the intruding guardian find one of the current leaders of the Tower. And with that image the guardian came to a sudden halt, as if to not to disturb the figure already in the room until being acknowledged.

-"Hey big guy"- said Cayde, driving his shenanigans to a momentary halt and directing his attention to the new challenger; -"Coming here to save me from my boredom?. I hope so, because my next escape plan involved fire. And a llama. Through it isn't fully perfected"-. Cayde could imagine the eye roll of the guardian, and the chuckle, by the way his shoulders trembled. 

A stack of papers hit the table, placed strategically so it wouldn't hit or obscure the large map sitting on it, or the numerous trinkets resting around it.

-"Ooor, you could come bring me more work and reports that we both know i will forget and put on that shelf"-, Cayde continued, sing-song, pointing with a dramatic gesture to a lonely shelf at the corner of the room, stuffed to its brim with papers that seemed like they had never been touched, -"It has a name you know. I call it Zavala's nightmare"-.

He was only met with a shrug, although it didn't seem sorry at all.

-"The feeling is what matters, Hivebane. You know, if they did let me go out of my room i would have killed two Hive Gods. But the Vanguard wants to leave you youngsters a chance"-. A clear and slightly metallic laugh rewarded his fake offended tone. Bingo.

-"Well, shoo."- he ended after a few seconds, making a hand gesture to match his words -"Now seeing that you haven't come to kidnap me or take me somewhere where there aren't concrete walls everywhere, i need to return to my passion and most important job; to pretend that I'm not wasting my time and setting the best example for all hunters all around", the exo concluded on a higher note, still laced with playfulness, -"Do me a solid and bring me something shiny from your missions, will you? Nowadays no one brings nice things to ol' uncle Cayde - only headaches"-.

The hunter couldn't help but let his playfulness step aside to let slight sorrow and pity seep through those last words. A sadness that only came with experience and loss. It isn't fair, he thought with a half-fogged mind. It isn't fair how after all that we've given, we still got so much taken from us. He guessed that was their reward for playing hero. For being the good guy.

It wasn't fair at all.

And as the Titan, with a wave of his hand, and a -"Always a pleasure making business with you"- that matched his own and previous mischievous tone; turned around and proceeded to leave the Vanguard's headquarters, Cayde let himself feel for a slight second those same previous feelings. Feelings that he knew oh so well. That his kind had to endure at some point of their lives. Their metal could keep them alive, and made them sturdier, harder. But it also was their biggest flaw. They were fragile, more than the rest of the races among guardians. They had limits.

He personally knew well about them. Six times. Six times he had been given a forced clear conscience. Even if he didn't choose so.

"Thank you for passing through again, Boynok-2"

** _It really wasn't fair at all-_ **

\------------------ ※ ------------------

** <s>__</s>_Empurata:_**

/ˈempʊrʌtʌ/

An anagram from the latin word, _"amputare"._

_verb_

  * cut off (a limb) by surgical operation.

"surgeons had to amputate his left hand"

synonyms:cut off, sever, remove (surgically), saw off, chop off, lop off.

  * to take away something from someone.

"we had to amputate the problem from its source"

synonyms: take away, appropriate, abstract, carry off, steal.

<s>Forget.</s>

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*

<s>We are destined to great things</s>

<s>You and I</s>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a canon where all exos ingame have to go through this every x amount of time, even if guardians are touched by the light. the light can enhace whatever there is, but can´t create anything out of thin air where there was nothing once.
> 
> The data banks have the same amount of space, always. not even the Traveller can change that.
> 
> (and yes i am transformers trash)


End file.
